


Naughty Angel/Foul Fiend

by Yvesriba



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Bed Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Fantasizing, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:54:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24439261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yvesriba/pseuds/Yvesriba
Summary: Crowley catches Aziraphale in the act of self pleasure, and knows just what to say.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27





	Naughty Angel/Foul Fiend

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [Yvesriba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yvesriba/pseuds/Yvesriba). Log in to view. 



> This was going to be a final chapter of "I'm a Demon I'm Not Nice." But that story ended very neatly and so I saved this for another time. Consider this a companion piece.

Aziaphale woke up, alone in Crowley’s bed. The smell of coffee wafted into the bedroom and he could hear his lover puttering around the kitchen. 

His lover. Crowley, his “hereditary enemy,” was now his delicious lover.

As the haze of sleep lifted off of Aziraphale, the adjective that Crowley used to describe him last night came to mind: "Naughty Angel." Now that they were lovers, he thought that this might be a nice pet name to use during certain, more wild intimacies. "Naughty Angel," he decided, would be a good counterpoint to his "Not Nice Demon", or perhaps "Foul Fiend," for those times when Aziraphale wanted to be top. 

Aziraphale hummed and chuckled softly to himself as he thought about what the Naughty Angel might do to his wily demon. He would pin Crowley against the wall and assert his dominance for the encounter. He would drop to his knees, yank Crowley’s tight pants down roughly and suck on that glorious long cock, until Crowley was writhing helplessly snakelike against the wall, that hard cock spurted into his mouth and he swallowed all of that delicious come. 

Oh. Quite the right thing to do. 

He would call Crowley “Foul Fiend” while crouching on all fours in the bed, or better yet, on the carpet in the back room of the bookshop. He would order that gorgeous Foul Fiend to literally get behind him—kneeling, hard cock plunging into Aziraphale’s raised and ready arse. Now he was hard again, rutting into the bedsheets as he continued fantasizing about all manner of things the Naughty Angel would command the Foul Fiend to do in order to satisfy his erotic appetite. 

Crowley padded into the bedroom in his stocking feet, carrying cups of espresso and tea for them to enjoy. He stopped halfway between the door and the bed as he beheld the sight of Aziraphale, face down, humping the sheets and pillows. His blonde curls, matted with sweat against his flushed face, eyes closed and pink lips open as he rhythmically gasped. His strong bare shoulders and arms exposed, hands somewhere within the sheets, moving steadily at his groin. Aziraphale moaned loudly, oblivious to anything outside his own mind and corporation. 

Crowley stood stock still, holding the cups, barely breathing. He bit his lower lip. He’d never seen such a deliciously erotic sight. He watched Aziraphale rub into the sheets for a full minute. His rhythmic movements were getting more frantic, his breath very ragged and loud.

Crowley gulped, his Adam’s apple the only part of his body to move. He drew in a breath, clucked his tongue and purred, 

“Naughty, Naughty Angel.”

Aziraphale let out a long, loud desperate moan, almost a shout, his whole body stiffening. He shuddered hard into the bedsheets. He gasped and moaned repeatedly and then collapsed, spent and sticky in the tangle of sheets. He lay languid, spent and silent for a long moment.

Crowley’s presence re-entered Aziraphale’s consciousness. He opened his eyes, laughed in relief and turned toward Crowley. Aziraphale batted his lovely eyelashes at him as his panting slowed and his flushed cheeks returned to a more even color.

Crowley gave him a big, bemused smile and moved toward the bed. He placed the cups on the nightstand. Then he kneeled down next to Aziraphale and kissed him deeply on the lips.

It’s not the number o’ words that matter, Crowley thought to himself, It’s the choice of ‘em. 


End file.
